


Bard Surprise

by Sapphire09



Series: Dog Surprise [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: A little, Angst, Dogs, Fluff, Gen, Geraskier Endgame, Jaskier is the official dog whisperer, human jaskier, just dog love with some plot, lotta dogs, romance is still not the focus, yen and jas being besties via dogs, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27485848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire09/pseuds/Sapphire09
Summary: Yennefer was always one to express her opinion on the pointlessness of having a human bard around.Though, she guessed having this one specific bard around was kind of useful, if only just as her dog groomer. Or dog entertainer. Her dogs are very fond of him anyway, and her dogs are smart enough to not fall for petty treats or a pretty face. They're good judges of character, though maybe she was just being a tad biased because they are hers.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Dog Surprise [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008555
Comments: 14
Kudos: 94





	1. Of Buttercups and Storms

Yennefer was always one to express her opinion on the pointlessness of having a human bard around.

Not that there's any merit in keeping any kind of bard in general, as they tend to be dreamy folk with too much affection for the dramatics and tend to forget life doesn't work like stories and ballads and plays do, also with annoying delusion of grandeur, thinking they are more important than they actually are. But, she put an emphasis in human because, well,  _ human _ . It's already useless enough being human, but being a bard? No power at all, no respect to be had but by another fellow bard or vain nobles. Barely above a strumpet even in some circumstances, as social hierarchy goes. They just dress prettier, but some bards dress just as revealing.

So yes, Yennefer simply couldn't understand the point of having a human bard follow you around.

Though, she guessed having this one specific bard around was kind of useful, if only just as her dog groomer. Or dog entertainer. Her dogs are very fond of him anyway, and her dogs are smart enough to not fall for petty treats or a pretty face. They're good judges of character, though maybe she was just being a tad biased because they are  _ hers _ .

Jaskier simply has a way with her dogs, something she still couldn't fathom sometimes. He was almost like a dog whisperer, also really, really good with their grooming. She tends to use her magic to clean them, for efficiency’s sake. Also, because it's not like dog grooming was one of the things taught in Aretuza. Sometimes, she would try bathing them herself when she wanted to pamper them, but she never could get their coat to shine so brightly, so soft, like silk and satin under her fingers, something she couldn't figure how to imitate safely with her magic. Especially with Snowdrop and Bella, who have the longest and thickest coat among all her dogs. So, she could see how having this bard around may benefit someone like her.

However, Geralt doesn't have dogs that can benefit from this particular talent, so she still couldn't see the point of Geralt having him around. She's not sure if this particular talent translates to horse grooming, but maybe it does? Then again, the bastard kicked the bard down the mountain right after she kicked him, so maybe there really wasn't much point besides some random whim, or pity.

(Well, she knew exactly why Geralt let the Bard follow him for years,  _ decades _ , but if the Witcher himself refused to give that particular word a voice, then Yennefer won't bother acknowledging it. It may as well doesn't exist, for all the good the Witcher does with it.)

"Would you follow me around now, bard?" She then asked, on a whim.

Well, not  _ just  _ a whim. There were the heartbreak and the curses she could practically hear tumbling around in the Bard's brain, projected unconsciously to everyone with even the slightest talent in mind-reading with the amount of  _ hurt _ just dripping like Kikimora blood with every stray thought. The question appeared then, a wondering she simply gave voice to when she also heard the smidgen of praises, little parts scrambled among the hurt, innocent wondering that are simply praises for her dogs. In particular, Snowdrop, who he thanked for liking the Bard enough to comfort him. 

He'll be good for her dogs, though she won't say no if the Bard wanted to sing her praises like he did Geralt. As long as they were praises, anyway. And nothing too tacky or ridiculous.

…All right, maybe just for her dogs.

The Bard looked up at her incredulously in response to her question, as she expected.

"Why would I?" He asked back, suspicion lacing his tone. "I'm not up to be turned to a guinea pig or your experiment."

Fair enough. Yennefer shrugged, absently scratching at Bella by her side as she leaned slightly on Raeva behind her, feeling his warmth on her back.

"I won't mind you," she admits easily, easier than she first thought when the idea just popped into her head. "Too much, anyway. You take care of my dogs well and I like them being taken care of. I don't want my dog groomer to be gone too just because a damned Witcher decided he's had enough of having a Bard around."

Jaskier scoffed, a bitter sound that Yennefer doesn't know what to feel for.

"Your groomer now, am I? And here I thought I've always been a bard, or a bane of your existence."

Yennefer shrugged. "You're not significant enough to be the bane of my existence," she said, pretending she didn't see the flinch her words caused, not letting her slight guilt linger and continued on as if she was giving him a favor, "But, you can be my dog groomer. And a bard too, I guess."

"Why?" He asked, hands steady while still petting and scratching at Snowdrop's fur, who was absolutely relishing at the attention, the spoiled little thing. Yennefer could feel her fond exasperation rising at the way her ball of fluff wagged his tail wildly. "So you can throw me away too?"

The bitterness was expected. Their interaction was always colored by bitterness, most of the time. It was familiar.

"You don't like me enough for you to be hurt if I am to throw you away. You have thicker skin than that," Yennefer retorted, smile sharp against her cheeks. "Besides, you're more my dogs' than you are mine. I love my dogs too much and I don't like them sad."

Snowdrop yipped, snuggling closer to the Bard, tail wagging like a storm as the Bard's talented fingers reached to the exact spot he loved. While they were talking, Ash has moved from his perch at Yennefer's feet to the bard, placing his entire significant weight right on top of the bard's mud-worn boots and slobbered all over his pants.

She doesn't even have to read his mind to know what he'll say, not when his eyes started tearing up for some reason, and hugged Snowdrop to his chest while hiding his face into his soft, fluffy fur. Snowdrop started licking at the brown locks then, and Yennefer felt like cooing at the cuteness of her smallest pup.

"Alright," she heard him mumble through a mouthful of fur. Then, he raised his head to look at her with something close to a pathetic try of a glare, especially with the shine of tears. "Only because I love your dogs, you hear? They deserve all the nice things." The last part was mumbled out again, patting Ash's head now with one hand he freed from Snowdrop.

She smiled, less sharp and more amused now. At least she can agree with the Bard about what her dogs deserve.

"Then, it is a deal."

* * *

The deal was like this; Jaskier is to spend a couple of days a week, which may be adjusted to the Bard's schedule as to not disturb his primary profession, at wherever Yennefer may have decided to stay from her numerous safehouses/manors across the continent in that particular week. He can get to Yennefer's house on his own or Yennefer would transport him, in accordance to her dogs' need and the Bard's relative location to her own. In those days, Jaskier is to play and groom and give his every attention to her dogs, pamper them silly, until they are content for the next week until their next session. 

That was the initial deal anyway. Just a week in, it already turned into something else entirely. 

"The gall of them, daring to try and order me around. As if having the Count's backing means they can get away with fucking everything," Yennefer huffed angrily, sipping her cup of black tea as she tried to calm herself. Bella nosed at her ankles in sympathy, while the rest of her dogs were scattered around the room and relaxing. 

Jaskier laid on his back on the floor across her, Snowdrop perched on his chest and Coal lying near his feet. Cornflower eyes glanced up at her in sympathy as his hands kept moving and petting Snowdrop's luscious fur. He is the very picture of lazy contentment, the mood rolling off him was almost the same as her dogs'. This has become quite a routine to see. Surprising, considering it has only been a week.

Then again, she shouldn't be surprised. She was the one that offered him a room at her house to use while he plays at the nearby tavern when he wasn't taking care of her dogs. 

(She didn't want him to stay, but her dogs had whined so piteously when he was to leave, to see to them again in another week. And well, it turns out he was somewhat tolerable when he wasn't spitting out insult every time. So was her excuse anyway.)

"Yeah, they do that. Entitled bastards, their lot are," he commiserated, which was another thing Yennefer didn't quite expect when she started unloading her frustration of nobility to him, as the only other person within her shouting range. "To be fair, the Count is pretty shameless too. One time I played in his event, I was propositioned in front of the entire guests and no one dared to even say a word of protest and laughing along with him. Thankfully I was witty enough to sidestep that. Though, I heard the trobairitz that played the next year when I refused wasn't so lucky. She hates me even to this day because of it. Understandable honestly, even though it’s not my fault the Count is such a failure of a human being."

"Ugh," Yennefer snarled. "I should just turn that bastard to a goat. Or a pig. No one would miss him."

Jaskier shrugged from where he laid, letting the white dog on his chest licked his face lazily as he kept up with his scratches. "He would deserve that."

Yennefer grinned then, ideas forming in her brain. "Should I sneak into his room tonight? It will be delightful to see how he'll  _ squeal  _ once he wakes up as a pig."

"Better, do it in his party," the Bard added, barely any time of contemplation. "There will be a masquerade ball he'll host in three days time. The masks alone would make it hard for people to figure out your identity. You can make him squeal in front of his guests, see them laugh at him, for once. That's more satisfying. Or hell, turn them all to pigs, let the servants laugh at them instead."

Yennefer laughed, loving the thought. Oh, the satisfaction of putting disgusting nobles in his place!

“Shall we, then?” Yennefer asked, feeling giddy already. Her mind already started to plan how she would get that ball’s invite, the dress and mask she’ll wear, and where and when she’ll turn that Count to a squealing pig in front of his guests, let them see him for what he actually is. 

“Oh, I’m coming with you?” Jaskier asked, surprise lacing his tone. Yennefer frowned at that reaction, and she could sense some confusion from him.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t you?” she asked back. Then, images of Geralt leaving him behind flashed through the bard’s head. Some, she caught that Jaskier felt they were well-meaning, while with some others there were hints of confusion and hurt.

Yennefer furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head, wondering what she should do with that. There’s a part of her that wondered why Geralt was so willing to let go of this bard when for all of his infuriating quality, he’s somewhat like the weed he named himself. He just  _ grows  _ on you, like, well,  _ weeds.  _

She didn’t really expect to care about a measly bard, a  _ human,  _ but he’s…  _ fun.  _ He’s not righteous like Geralt is and perfectly capable of being petty. He doesn’t judge her for her more morally questionable acts, but he also doesn’t hide his disdain for her occasional hypocrisy, though she does so hate when the bard called her out on that. 

At least, he doesn’t do it behind her back. In fact, he tends to tell her to her face either by poetry, song, or straight-up blunt words that made her feel like being hit by a bludgeon.

She really, really doesn’t like that.

Though, she can still appreciate he would only do it to her face, in private, with only her as his audience.

“You’re coming with,” Yennefer decided to say, making it clear she wanted him with her. “It was your plan anyway. We’ll still need an exit plan since mine is pretty much — ,” she waved her hand, refusing to say Jaskier’s term of ‘wavy, magic-thingy’, to the Bard’s amusement, “But, I’m sure you’ll think of something. You hate teleportation magic as much as Geralt does.”

She somewhat grumbled that last part, feeling a little annoyed even though she could understand the apprehension. Besides, putting a human through a teleportation warp is different from having a Witcher through. A human may actually die if something went even slightly wrong. Not that it would go wrong, since it’s her. Still, she doesn’t begrudge the caution.

She watched as Jaskier started to get up, sitting on the floor now with Snowdrop held in his arms. There is some kind of warmth coming from him, a fondness _ — _

Oh.  _ Ew,  _ feelings.... Yennefer scrunched her face in displeasure, though the troubadour chuckled and grinned at her, and the warmth  _ intensified.  _ She rolled her eyes, feeling something inside her going all mushy in response, a feeling she usually reserved only for her  _ lovely dogs _ . 

Really, if what she feels for the bard is a fraction of what the Witcher felt for the Bard (and she can say with confidence even since Rinde, what she felt is truly just a fraction of it), she really wondered just how can the Witcher turn this... _ puppy,  _ away? Seems like it would be like if she turned Bella away, and honestly that’s unfathomable to her.

…She kind of wanted to dangle the Bard in front of Geralt now, see how he’d react. Not that she wanted to see the Witcher anytime soon, but she does feel a little vindictive.

"Anyway, get ready. We'll leave for the Count's Manor soon," Yennefer called out as she turned away, lest she would really go all mushy by all the warmth the bard exuded. He may be tolerable, but she refused to turn  _ too  _ soft just because he exuded the similar kind of warmth she felt from her dogs. Similar, not the same.

She heard Coal's annoyed woof and Snowdrop’s offended yip, then the bard's soft cursing and immediate apology from behind her as he stood up, disturbing Coal’s rest near the bard’s feet. There were promises whispered and soft snuffling as Coal went back to sleep and a scatter of Snowdrops’s small paws as he scrambled to follow the Bard, likely already demanding said promise. Yennefer had to laugh to herself when she heard another snuff and yip, then the sound of the bard likely almost tripping himself up. When she glanced back, Jaskier already knelt down, petting Raeva and Ash. Apparently, they’ve decided it’s their turn to play with the bard, to her amusement and the bard’s befuddlement.

She really does want to see the Witcher's face when he sees the songbird he let go of nesting among her dogs. Seems like it would be a fun sight.

* * *

Alright, so maybe she likes the bard now. She's not going to admit it to the bard though. He'll get even more annoying. It's not even two weeks yet, she got an image to keep.

* * *

"Despite being an annoyance, I do like you, Jas. You're like a fucking weed. An annoying, singing weed I keep imagining plucking. But I do find myself enjoying your company, against my better ideas."

"...Did you just admit you like my company, Yen? Does this mean we're friends?"

_ A hint of bitter memory. An expectation to be disappointed. Warm sprinkle of the littlest hope. _

_ Sigh _ . "Yes. We're friends."

The bright feeling and the lovely song he sang for her the next morning was worth the embarrassment. 

Really. Two weeks, and this is how far she's already fallen. Though, the sight of her dogs jumping around and howling along with the tune Jaskier sings does make for a lovely picture.

(Seriously though, what kind of heart a Witcher has to have lasted literal  _ decades _ and still not able to call him a  _ friend _ ? A stone would be less stubborn. Yennefer would know.)

* * *

As Yennefer was leaving for Sodden, there was someone in her house, standing in front of her and telling her to "Be careful," and "Come back soon," and "Kick those Nilfgaardian butts."

Around them were her dogs, snuffing and snuffling at her with wide, sad eyes. Cornflower eyes that looked at her with a similar expression, though more awkward, as if he didn't want her to see him worrying. 

There is a new feeling growing inside her heart of  _ stone.  _ Then, the words just came out of her.

"I'll be back soon. I'm Yennefer of Vengerberg. Nilfgaard is nothing in my presence."

'Come back soon.' 'I'll be back soon.' There is something about those words that gave her warmth. The voiced words that told her she has someone will be waiting for her return. She was replied with the various sound of woofs and snuffs, before she stepped back and readied to open a portal. Jaskier herded her dogs for her, and they complied easily, though still with those sad eyes still turned on her.

"I promise I'll be back soon, loves," she said to her dogs. Then, she looked up towards the bard, to Jaskier. She stared hard at him with a glare she doesn't really feel.

"Take care of them," she said, as if a warning. Jaskier however, nodded firmly.

"Of course," he replied. "With my life."

That made Yennefer smile. Honestly, they both know her dogs are more capable of tearing a human apart than the bard can, and so it's more likely for them to protect him than him them. She can appreciate the sentiment though.

At least now she can leave for war knowing her beloved dogs will be perfectly taken care of in her absence. That's reassuring and one less thing to worry about.

A man's trash really is another woman's treasure.

* * *

The dimeritium shackles they bound her with is painful for the way they sapped away her energy. She felt weak and lethargic, both because of the big magic she had done however many days were before and the way dimeritium metal took away the meagre amount of whatever strength she may have had left. The torture she went through didn’t help either. She couldn’t even sit up straight, needing to lean on the prison wall they had placed her in.

There was a part of her that wondered if this is how she’ll end. She couldn’t see a way out, not on her own. However, she doubted any of the mages left in Sodden was strong enough yet to even plan for her rescue, moreover come storm for her into a Nilfgaard stronghold. 

Yennefer sighed, her head thumped slightly on the stone wall. She thinks even the walls are likely to have dimeritium in them too. The way she felt, she could barely stand. She thought if Jaskier was here, even he would be more likely to be useful. 

...Ah, she wanted to go back to her dogs. She still remembered the peaceful scene of the bard, playing his tune surrounded by her dogs. The way their tails swished to the melody. The warm contentment that the bard tend to exude, in between bouts of sadness and sense of loss in his playing, she wanted to be there again. 

Then, their goodbyes. They must be waiting —

Yennefer always had her dogs waiting for her, but this time the bard is likely waiting, too. He would take care of her dogs, there’s no doubt of that. No matter how long she must get stuck here, Jaskier won’t abandon them. They’re all waiting…

_ Fuck, I need to get out of here, _ Yennefer thought with renewed determination. She didn’t know yet how she will do that, but she will. She just has to bid the time, look for a chance to escape. 

She  _ will  _ get out of here, or her name isn’t Yennefer of Vengerberg.


	2. The Storm and The White Wolf

Her chance came not a day later, when a new prisoner was being brought in.

The new prisoner was dirty and ragged, hair matted by dirt and blood. He was stripped bare of any belongings, left only with a pair of dark pants that seemed to have seen better days. He was brought in between two soldiers, dragged in limply in their arms, barefooted and shirtless, scars old and new peeking through under all the dried blood.

They threw him into the cell next to hers, left him unmoving on the stone floor, and she wondered just for what reason Nilfgaard would take a Witcher prisoner.

This particular Witcher, out of all Witchers. Truly, Fate must be laughing at her.

“...Yen?” she heard the Witcher asked softly a while after the soldiers left. He still didn’t move, likely faking unconsciousness, as she had assumed. The blood had been concerning, but the wounds, while they look bad, wouldn’t have been enough to make a Witcher lose consciousness. Some had looked more like old wounds, likely why the soldiers could even capture him. She would bet most of the blood he was covered in wasn't his.

He’s definitely far from being at his best, he is still wounded and weakened enough to be brought here, but there may still be a fighting chance with him at her side. What’s left is to figure out the right _timing_.

“Well, this is a surprising development,” Yennefer muttered, having no doubt the Witcher could hear her anyway. “Now, what does Nilfgaard want with you? They’re not exactly known to take prisoners, unless there’s something they want from you.”

Geralt shifted then from his place on the ground, pulling himself up with just a slight struggle since his arms were bound behind him. He managed to straighten up to sitting position and get his legs crossed before he turned to face her. Those golden eyes sent a jolt through her, though now she knew to think it was only the djinn’s magic that made her react as she does.

“Yen,” he rumbled out her name, affection and heartbreak all at once, the depth of his voice was like thunder. The part of her that missed it shivered, though she beat it down with the thought that _it was the djinn’s magic at work, this isn’t your own feeling._

“I missed you, Yen,” he continued. “I’m sorry about—”

“Not now, Witcher,” she cut off, not wanting to hear it. Instead, she stared back at that sharp gaze, outwardly unmoved. “Obviously, we have something else more concerning than apologies. Maybe after we escape, then we can talk.”

Or not. Honestly, she kind of wanted to run towards her dogs (and bard, he’s hers now, she’s not giving him back) and let them heal her from this traumatic event and not having to _talk feelings with the least emotionally aware Witcher in the Continent_. 

“Right,” Geralt rumbled again, something vaguely dejected in his tone. “...What about you, then? Why are _you_ here?”

“Nilfgaard’s mage had a bone to pick with me. We were schoolmates and she was still very cross about something I did back then,” she paraphrased, shrugging slightly. “You?”

“...My child surprise,” he muttered out. Yen had to raise her eyebrows at that. “I went to find her. But, I guess she ended up finding me.”

“Oh,” she breathed out, something fond settling in her gut. “That’s good.”

 _Wait_.

“What does that have to do with why you ended up here? I’m glad you did it, but then where is she now?”

“Nilfgaard wanted her,” Geralt explained grimly. “I don’t know yet why, but if she’s anything like her mother, there’s magic in her. Strong magic. We assumed that’s why Nilfgaard wanted her. We were about to go find you and ask your assistance on that, but we got separated before we got your house.”

Yennefer’s eyebrows furrowed. “How did you know where I stayed?” She was always on the move, and it was only recently she stayed as long as she has. But, she didn’t think the Witcher would know where, especially when she only decided it after the Dragon Hunt and made that deal with the bard.

“We heard about your whereabouts in a tavern in a village near Kaedwen’s border. We got your address from the Innkeeper, but we encountered a small group of soldiers before we arrived. I was already injured by then, so I told her to go ahead, hoping you’d protect her if I…”

Something pained flashed through the Witcher’s expression and Yennefer couldn’t help feeling sympathy for him.

“But, here I am instead,” she finished. Worry that she only ever seen when the bard was bleeding out of his mouth before came through on the Witcher’s expression. She didn’t need to read his mind to know the anger and frustration he must feel.

She sighed. “Don’t worry about her,” she said, leaning her head back on the stone wall and face towards the ceiling. She needs to preserve whatever strength she can for the right moment, the crucial chance to escape the place. “I have a friend staying at my house. As long as she arrives there, she’ll be safe and taken care of.”

Instead of being soothed, Geralt looked alarmed. “A friend? Yen, Nilfgaard is _desperate_ to have her _._ Just one wrong word—”

Now she felt annoyed for the bard. The petty corner of her brain felt reluctant to give up Jaskier’s name just yet, but Geralt probably would be less worried if she just told him the friend she meant was the bard that followed him for 20 years or so, whatever he may feel personally about it.

“It’s fine,” she said, focusing on conserving her strength and deciding she didn’t feel like explaining the intricacies behind the why and the how of Jaskier staying at her house, and if that aligned with her pettiness, so be it. “My friend is trustworthy.”

Also, Jaskier likely would recognize Geralt’s child surprise and would have an idea how to handle the situation. He did mention something about Geralt blaming him for that, that one night when he decided to get drunk, crying into Snowdrop’s fur. Honestly, if this was also fate being at play, it works somewhat well. There’s probably nowhere else safer for the child at the moment, with the two of them incapacitated like this.

Geralt didn’t look convinced, so Yennefer sighed again.

“Just go meditate or something. Save your strength. We need to think of a way out of here soon. You can’t protect your child as long as you’re here.”

“Yen—”

“Rest, Witcher,” Yennefer insisted. “I need you to get us out of here. There’s nothing else we can do about your child surprise while we’re both here besides trusting your child to arrive where she meant to arrive and trust my friend to take care of her until we can get to them. At least with the both of us here, we have a greater chance of escaping this place alive.”

Geralt went quiet then. When Yennefer took a glance at him, he had moved to the far side of the wall, opposite to Yennefer’s cell. Another feeling of annoyance surged, also a bit of unexplainable hurt. She’s aware it’s probably better for them to keep the pretence of distance, in case their captor doesn’t know of their relationship and thus, unaware of them conspiring together.

There were more words at the tip of her tongue, wondering how the Witcher would look if she asked about the bard, if she pretended like she didn’t know he was safely ensconced at her house, nesting among her dogs. She also wondered if he realized how much danger the Bard would’ve been in now by his well-known association with the Witcher if Nilfgaard knew of his connection with the child they were looking for. She wondered if said Witcher even realized this yet. He is understandably more concerned about his child surprise, the immediate, primary target. 

But now, whether Nilfgaard knew about the child being Geralt’s child surprise or not, they certainly know now they have some kind of connection. It won’t be too much of a stretch for them to look for Jaskier next, thinking Geralt may have told the child to go to the only known associate of the White Wolf.

She thought it’s good he had stayed at her house for as long as he did. Even if she didn’t mean for things to go like this, it worked out pretty well anyway. If he had gone back to Oxenfurt like he first planned when he was still contemplating about their deal, it was likely he would’ve been nabbed and likely die before Geralt would even know to look. 

The words were at the tip of her tongue, but she decided against it. If the Witcher didn't think it, he will soon anyway. There's nothing to do in the cell but think, and past experience suggests Geralt would think of the bard sooner or later. If he asked, maybe she will tell him the bard is safe, even though he also wanted to see the Witcher stewing about it. For all her bitterness for the Witcher, she is pretty fond of him still. Maybe it was the Djinn, still, her bard likely wouldn’t thank her for it. He may even get sad, and a sad bard would mean her dogs would catch on the sad, and she doesn’t like that.

She really does miss her dogs. Imagining them tearing apart Fringilla for her has been her favorite pastime between her plotting for escape. Once she gets her magic back, she wanted to draw down lightning on her and feed the charred bitch to her dogs. Or maybe Jaskier can give her some more creative ideas. She doesn’t know if she really wanted her beloved dogs to eat filth like Fringilla, they eat better food than that. 

Still, the thought cheered her up considerably.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of two soldiers opening the door of her cell. She sighed. It was that time again. She noticed Geralt opening his mouth, likely to ask what they were going to do with her, but she discretely shook her head and Geralt snapped her mouth shut. She was then led away, her head raised proudly, and she was staring straight ahead while putting up a nonchalance expression in her defiance to be broken.

Yennefer really would burn the place to the ground once she gets out, and Fringilla in it. Bury her in her dimeritium prison, skewer her into the stone walls with her dimeritium bars. See if she doesn’t.

* * *

Jaskier was startled out of his slumber by the rapid pounding of the front door.

“Wha— _fhuh_ _—_ ” he sputtered out upon waking up to a mouthful of white fur on his face. Snowdrop, who had pressed his butt to Jaskier’s face in his sleep, didn’t even move and continued on sleeping peacefully.

The pounding continued, and he also started to become aware of the sound of the rain outside and the faint voice he could hear yelling out among the noise.

“What the…” Jaskier quickly shifted his legs, trying to lodge it out from under Raeva’s weight. “Come on, Rae,” he tried, “I need to see who that is. Maybe, that’s finally your master. Maybe she lost her key and can’t get in.” Unlikely. Extremely unlikely. He doubted Yennefer ever need to use a key in her life, to be honest. But, at least Raeva moved his weight a bit so Jaskier can get out of the bed and grab a shirt. He then lit up a candle and brought it with him, so he won’t trip needlessly in the dark and crack his head open while he quick-walked to the front door.

Upon noticing Jaskier walking out of the room, Raeva let out a yawn before he jumped down from the bed, dutifully following beside Jaskier despite his eyes still blinking sleepily and tongue licking his snout. Ash, who liked sleeping near the door, also have woken up when Jaskier’s feet touched the floor and follows along, too.

Well, whoever is behind the front door, at least Jaskier is pretty well protected. Raeva and Ash are very bitey, very big and can do the intimidating ‘attack dog’ shtick, so it’s very reassuring.

Seriously, he loves Yennefer’s dogs so much. They’re like, the best boys and girls ever. Maybe it’s because they were all gained through the Law of Surprise, there’s some kind of intelligence in them that is different from other common dogs.

Or Jaskier is very biased because he loves them a lot. That is also possible. He’s pretty sure Yennefer loves his particular bias though. He thinks so anyway. He's pretty sure the dogs are just that smart, though.

Once Jaskier got nearer to the front door, he could hear better what was being yelled out, muffled out by the rain and the pounding of the door.

“—lease! PLEASE, SOMEONE, YEN—”

Bella, who was already standing near the door, whined sympathetically at the pounding door. Once she heard Jaskier coming, she turned and looked at him pitifully, which probably meant whoever is behind that door really needs help and not someone dangerous. 

“Alright, I’m here!” Jaskier yelled out as he located the keys, “Wait, I’ll open the door for you!”

Without any more delay, Jaskier quickly released the latches on the door and opened it. In hindsight, he probably should’ve asked more question before opening the door, in case it was actually bandits luring him out to be killed. Then again, seeing the figure behind the door, he probably would’ve felt guilty for leaving them in the rain much longer.

Behind it, a small figure stood, a small fisted hand held in the air in an aborted attempt to pound more on the door. They were hidden under a familiar dark hooded cloak too big for their size, like a child wearing their guardian’s cloak. Under the hood, a pale face and brilliant green eyes were staring up at him, wide, scared, and desperate. 

But, Jaskier recognized those eyes, even partly hidden by the hood and shaded by the darkness of the night. That specific shade of green, a brilliance that he’d only ever seen on the bloodline of House Riannon, on the late Crown Princess of Cintra and her daughter, the Granddaughter or the fallen Queen Calanthe of Cintra. The Granddaughter who was thought dead in the siege, along with the Queen and King.

“Pr—”

“Are you Yennefer?” the princess asked, her tone desperate, before Jaskier could exclaim his awe. Jaskier blinked, his awe quickly brought down by his surprise at the question. He is definitely not Yennefer, his eyes aren’t purple enough, hair not dark enough or long enough, and he is definitely does not have the chest to pass as the great Yennefer of Vengerberg. He’s also pretty devoid of any kind of Chaos-controlling talent, even though his music have been called ‘magical’ before.

“Uh, no, I’m not,” Jaskier answered hesitantly. Upon seeing the princess’ face fall, as if he’d taken away her only hope, he quickly added on, “But, you’re absolutely at the right place! This is Yennefer of Vengerberg’s house. She has something to take care of at the moment, but I’m sure she’ll be back sometime soon.” Hopefully. Honestly, he was actually starting to worry, now. Maybe he'll try out that 'emergency-only Xeno-something-thingy,' if Yen still doesn't come back by tomorrow.

The hope came backon the child's face, though then her expression turned into something troubled. He asked before she could either ask, or not ask.

“I’m not who you look for, but if you don’t mind my company, won’t you come wait for her inside?” he offered, putting on a smile he hoped was comforting and not creepy or suspicious. “You’re absolutely soaked through. Come, I’ll light the fire for you. You can also tell me what you need help for while waiting, if you’d like.”

The girl bit her lips as she was deciding, wariness apparent in her expression. There was also a surreptitious glance she gave behind her that made him instinctively looked up, trying to see what she was looking at. Though, not a second later he realized she might be being chased.

Before he could convince her further, Bella already fitted herself between the space of Jaskiers body and the door, peeking and whining when she saw the child under the rain. Before Jaskier could stop her, Bella already shuffled herself between said space, and stretched her snout to reach for the child, rain started soaking the fur of her head as she bit the edge of the cloak, lightly tugging her towards the house.

“Bella!” Jaskier exclaimed, hoping she doesn’t scare the child. Soft and beautiful Bella might be, she’s still a breed that has grown even bigger than the usual hunting dogs, the most common breed across the continent. Jaskier wasn’t sure that was because that’s just how she grew or because she was Yennefer’s oldest dog, and thus more exposed to her Chaos. Yennefer had once mused Bella had been such a small pup that she was surprised when she grew as big as she does.

When Jaskier looked back to the Princess, she didn’t look scared at all. In fact, her green eyes glinted with absolute interest at Bella, looking more like the child she should be than the fear-desperation-loss she looked earlier.

“Apparently, Bella agrees to you coming inside,” he let a bit of laughter colored his words as he knelt down to better see her eye-to eye. The child looked back at him, and he saw the indecision.

“Please, come in,” he offered a hand. “The rain won’t let up anytime soon. At least until it stops, you can stay by the fire and dry yourself up. I feel absolutely cold just looking at you, _brrr,”_ he tacked on the last part with a dramatic shudder, delighted when she let out a surprised laugh. Her hands went up to her mouth, covering them as if she was surprised her own laugh.

It kind of breaks Jaskier’s heart, even though he took care not to let it show on his face. 

“...Are you a friend of Yennefer?” she asked, her hand finally reached back to Jaskier’s outstretched hand. Jaskier grinned. He likes how easy it was to answer that question.

“Yes, I’m her friend.”

* * *

Fire lit and dogs settled around them, the princess sat down and let herself be curiously sniffed by the dogs that have gathered. She let Jaskier take off her wet cloak to have it dry, letting her soaked white-blond hair show. The same hair as Princess Pavetta.

 _‘If her eyes didn’t give her away, then the hair certainly would,_ ’ Jaskier thought absently as he held the wet cloak in his arm and gave the princess a towel to dry herself. He thought it was likely the act was less about trust and more about her being too tired and cold right now to realize what she had done. Or she is simply brave, willing to trust Jaskier because he is ‘Yennefer’s’ friend.

Jaskier stared down at the thick cloak hanging on his arm. While the cloak was absolutely drenched, it did its jobe well enough that the princess' clothes were only slightly damp and likely would dry off quickly as long as she stayed by the fire. He was right about the cloak being familiar, too. Now that he was holding it in his hand, he can say knew the cloak and who owned it, without a shred of doubt. 

He knew how the cloak felt and smelt, the familiar weight of it, dry or wet, placed around his shoulder, over his head, or just covering him like a blanket in cold nights. _The scent of Adventure, Destiny, and Heartbreak, all of what good Ballads were made of._

 _“It’s onion,”_ a gruff voice would say in return, face twisted into a scowl—

 _‘Ah, so they’ve met. That’s… good.’_ He can already assume Geralt got into a spot of trouble just by the fact his Child Surprise wore this but without its owner in sight, and perhaps that was why the princess was being wary and fidgety. The way she was looking over her shoulder, perhaps Geralt stayed behind to lose their pursuers. He'll either arrive by morning or have been captured by said pursuers. He could also be left for dead, but Jaskier doubted that would happen. Geralt can't die that easily, not after he got rid of the shit-shoveler of his life—

There was something numb in his heart even as his mind analyzed scenarios and possibilities, and noted them before he set them aside. Whatever trouble Geralt got into, he fully trusted the Witcher would get out of it soon. If not, Yennefer would, once she comes back...

_‘Maybe I will have to go back to Oxenfurt, after all…’_

He felt a snout pressing hard against his hip, making him yelp in surprise. Raeva looked up at him, looking unimpressed, as if he had heard Jaskier’s thoughts and he doesn’t care for it. Jaskier narrowed his eyes suspiciously, wondering if Yennefer had made her dogs into mind-readers or if she got them like that.

Then, he noticed water dripping from the wet cloak onto Yennefer’s Zerrikanian rug, and he yelped again, now in dismay. Alright, maybe not mind-reading dogs, just smart dogs that know rugs aren’t supposed to be dripped at. Ugh, he hopes it won’t stain...

“What is your name, if you don’t mind me asking?” Jaskier asked as he wrung out the excess water out into a big basin before hanging it near the fire. He figured making a conversation won’t hurt. If he can also get a sense of what’s going on, that’s also good. If not, well… Geralt won’t want him anywhere near his business anyway.

“...My name is Fiona,” she said, petting Coal that had settled near her legs. The big black mutt was dozing off, tail wagging in contentment as he was petted. On the princess' other side, Bella was also lying down, head still slightly damp, despite Jaskier’s hard work in drying them. Nothing else to do, he doesn’t have Yennefer’s ability to dry them instantly. At last Bella doesn’t seem cold, content in just lying near the fire.

“Ah, beautiful name,” he replied, smiling at the girl that started to cuddle closer to Coal. “I’m Jaskier, Bard Extraordinaire, friend of Yennefer of Vengerberg and caretaker of these dogs,” he introduced himself, giving a dramatic showman bow, hoping to coax another laugh.

He did get a laugh when Snowdrop suddenly appeared and jumped on his back when he bowed, making him yelp and fumble and almost fall forward on his face. So, at least there's that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....this is really becoming a whole plot, huh.....


End file.
